


Innocent: Method of Entry

by jellymankelly



Series: Innocent Series [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellymankelly/pseuds/jellymankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes are dark but soft and shining, half covered by her thick, thick lashes. They stare almost as if they can see right through you, and it sends a shiver dancing straight up your spine. The way she's looking at you right now...it's very likely the sexiest thing you've ever seen in your life. Companion piece to Innocent. M for coarse language and sexual themes. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocent: Method of Entry

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to ijustkeepmovin on Tumblr, who gave me the idea for a first date fic, and then wouldn't stop bugging me about it until I wrote the damned thing.

You're nervous, which is ridiculous. You haven't been nervous about a first date in forever, it feels like. Yet here you are, standing outside Santana's apartment, trying to work up the guts to knock on the door. So silly.

You were kind of startled when it was Santana who had initiated the date. You're not sure why, considering you don't actually know enough about her yet to tell whether she's the type to get the ball rolling herself or not. You've been texting back and forth pretty steadily for the past two and a half weeks, ever since the Theater Incident - Quinn's words, not yours. It was a little awkward at first, each of you trying to find something the talk about that didn't revolve around your arrest or, well...the Theater Incident. Eventually though you found a rhythm and everything just sort of took off from there.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that Santana is really funny. She has an impossibly quick wit that reminds you an awful lot of Quinn's sense of humor; she's sarcastic without being rude (usually), and has you giggling over her snarky comments about her fellow officers more often than not.

More than that, though, you were happy to discover that she is a genuinely sweet person, asking about your day, and remembering details from conversations that happened days ago. She's sympathetic when you complain the creepy owner of the performing arts studio you teach at, with his weird curly hair and strange love of sweater vest, and always ready with a goofy joke or kind encouragement when you get frustrated over a dance routine you can't quite seem to get down.

It's hard to tell through text message, but you think maybe she's a little nervous about your date too. She kept trying to offer other ideas in case you didn't feel comfortable about her original suggestion that you come over for a movie night at her place. Like you wouldn't immediately jump at the chance to see her in her natural habitat. Yeah right. You wonder if she's the kind to lounge in sweats eating junk food and watching TV on her days off, and if her apartment is messy and full of pictures of family and friends like yours is.

You run your slightly sweaty palms over your shirt one more time, checking for wrinkles you know aren't there, and knock with as much confidence as you can.

You jump back a little when the door swings open almost before you can drop your hand back to your side.

"Were you standing at the door?" you blurt, and immediately regret it when Santana drops her eyes and shuffles her sneaker against the floor. "Sorry," you whisper, a little charmed by how embarrassed she looks. You decide to throw her a bone at the expense of your own pride. "I kinda lose my filter when I'm nervous."

It does the job and gets her to meet your eyes for the first time. It leaves you a little breathless - you'd forgotten how pretty her eyes are.

"I, uh...the walls are kind of thin and I heard you walking down the hall."

You flush a little at that. You were standing out here for a good five minutes, trying to find the courage to knock.

"Oh," you offer lamely.

She starts and steps aside, smiling softly as she gestures you in. "Where are my manners? Would you like to come in?"

You have to bite your lip to keep from grinning like a dork at her unsteady motions. So cute.

"I would, thank you." You pretend a high, snooty voice to tease her formal invitation, but soften it with a gentle touch on her shoulder as you step past her and into the apartment.

The first thing you notice is that her living room at least is spotless, with everything precisely arranged. If it weren't for the music playing softly in the background and the picture on her mail table of her laughing next to a pretty girl with dark skin and a wide, pretty smile.

"Mercedes."

You blink in confusion. "Um. Dodge?"

She snorts cutely and steps up beside you to pick up the frame. "Smartass. I  _meant_  this is my friend Mercedes. She and I used to live together while I was still in academy. She's a singer, and my best friend."

Something about the name and the smiling face clicks in your mind, and your jaw drops. "Wait,  _Mercedes Jones?_  You're friends with Mercedes Jones?"

She gives you a proud look and shrugs. "Yep. Went to high school together."

You roll your eyes at her casual dismissal of the fact that she's best friends with one of your favorite artists. You can't help but gush a little. "I play her stuff at the studio all the time! She's so much fun to dance to."

Her smile broadens as she sets the picture back down and nods towards the kitchen, silently asking you to follow her further into the apartment. "Yeah? I'll have to tell her. She loves hearing things like that. Not that she needs it, with her big head."

You glance one more time at the photo and frown. "It looks normal sized to me."

She glances back at you and the look on her face makes your tummy flipflop.

"I just meant she's kind of a diva. She's earned it, but I like to tease her about it. Keep it real, y'know?"

You nod and sit at the island where she pulls out a stool for you, breathing in the wonderful smells coming from the stove.

You watch as she pulls a pan off the burner and stretches up against the counter to reach for plates in the cabinet above. Your eyes drift down down her back to stop at her backside, admiring the way her dark jeans cling to the perfect curves. You want to know how those curves feel in your hands.

"Brittany?"

You snap back up to her face, blushing hard at the coy smirk she's throwing over her shoulder.

You mumble a quiet "Oops" that only makes her smirk bigger.

"I  _asked_  if you like spicy sauces. I have a milder one I can heat up really quick, if you'd rather."

You shake your head, trying to control the heat in your face. "No, no. That's fine." You can totally handle spicy. Probably.

She nods and starts piling food onto the two plates she'd pulled down, spooning a reddish looking sauce onto each one. She sets one of the plates down in front of you and you immediately lean in for another long sniff.

"Santana, this smells so good."

She smiles shyly and turns to the overhead cabinets again. You keep your eyes steady on your plate this time.

"You like wine, right?"

You nod silently and watch as she moves over to her fridge to pull a bottle out, freeing the cork in quick, smooth movements.

She drags a second stool around to her side of the island before handing you a glass, waiting for you to clink it against hers before sitting.

You take your first bite, savoring the tastes exploding in your mouth. You swallow and are about to compliment her on her amazing cooking skills when suddenly the spice hits you. You try to blink away the tears that immediately spring to your eyes and take a big gulp of wine. It doesn't really help.

Determined not to let your taste buds get the better of you, you take another bite. You can feel sweat breaking out over your face, and a tear leaks out before you can catch it.

"Brittany!"

You shake your head, chewing intently before taking another huge gulp, nearly draining your glass.

"Oh my God, Britt, stop."

She grabs your hand before you can shove another forkful into your mouth, and whisks your plate away before you can even say anything.

"No, Santana, it's fine. It's really good, I swear-" you gasp and try not to pant.

She glares at you in exasperation and plants her hands on her hips. "Britt, if it was too spicy, you should have said."

You swallow hard and drop your gaze. "Sorry." You feel like you've already killed this date and it's only just started.

A hand cradles yours over the wineglass you're fiddling with, so you risk a glance up. Santana is looking at you with the sweetest little smile on her face, and it immediately soothes your embarrassment. You shrug a little and cover her hand with your other one. "I promise, it really is good. I guess I'm just not as great with spicy stuff as I thought."

She rolls her eyes and gives you a little squeeze before pulling her hand free. "You're so white," she teases, and the wink she shoots you makes your breath catch a little.

You finish off your wine instead of answering, and watch as she grabs a new plate and fills it with more food.

"Just give me a sec and I'll heat up some of the milder stuff. It'll only take a few minutes."

She waves you off when you apologize again, and takes a foil wrapped dish out of the fridge. You can't help but admire the view again when she bends over to grab a clean pan from the drawer next to the oven. You're pretty sure she has the most perfect ass you've ever seen.

She spends a few minutes heating the sauce before adding it to the fresh dish, handing you a glass of ice water before placing your dinner in front of you a smile and another wink. "Here ya go, white girl. Enjoy."

You narrow your eyes at her playfully, but it's ruined when you both break into laughter at the same time.

"More wine?"

You hold out your glass with a smile that's a little misshapen because of the bite you just took, but she doesn't seem to mind your rudeness. You swallow loudly and hum in pleasure.

"Better?"

"So good."

She shakes her head and starts back in on her own dinner, and you both sit in silence for a few minutes as you work your way through the best home cooked meal you've had since you moved out of your dad's house.

Once you've cleaned your plate, you lean back a little and pat your belly with a satisfied grin. "Seriously, that was so tasty. Where did you learn to cook?"

Santana's face shutters closed for a second, and you wonder if maybe you said something wrong, but her smile is back before you can ask.

"Abuela- um, my grandmother taught me when I was younger. She had dozens of recipe books that were like, family heirlooms, and she taught me almost everything she knew before she passed away."

Wondering if maybe the subject is a sensitive one, you don't press any further. "Well, you are clearly an excellent student, Officer Lopez."

The way her pretty lips turn down and her cute little nose scrunches and her eyebrows pinch together to form a tiny crease in between them - it all combines to make the most adorable 'Ew, no' face you've ever seen. You have to kiss that face. Like, right now.

You're grinning so big your cheeks hurt the entire time it takes to lean across from your side of the counter to hers, which is probably why you manage to catch her by surprise. You're still smiling even when she finally catches on and leans up to meet you, so she ends up kissing your teeth as much as your lips.

Once you get a little control of your goofy expression you return the kiss with glee, loving the way her mouth feels against yours, soft and wet and a little spicy-tasting from her dinner. When she pulls back to catch her breath, you drop down onto your stool with a satisfied hum, still grinning like a crazy person.

She rolls her eyes at your silliness, which only makes you smile even more.

"What are you so pleased about, huh?"

You shrug and doodle a little on the countertop with your finger. "Nothin'," you say, suddenly shy. "I just like you an awful lot, that's all." Your ears suddenly feel really warm so you shake your head a little to make sure your hair is covering them. When Santana doesn't say anything after a minute or two, you chance a look, hoping you didn't say something too forward for a first date.

All the air leaves your lungs in a great  _whoosh_  when you see the way Santana is staring at you. Her eyes are dark but soft and shining, half covered by her thick, thick lashes. They stare almost as if they can see right through you, and it sends a shiver dancing straight up your spine. The way she's looking at you right now - probably without even meaning it to be - it's very likely the sexiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You consider for the tiniest second the possibility of just leaping over the counter to kiss her senseless - wherever she'll let you - but she blinks and the moment passes. Her cheeks, already a little rosy with whatever blush she decided to use tonight, turn an even darker shade of pink. It's unfair, how every little thing about this woman is so attractive.

She smacks your hand lightly when you try to help her bus dishes from the counter to the sink, insisting that she'll just load them in her dishwasher later. While she's scraping the leftover food into a tupperware container, you pour the last of the wine evenly between your two glasses, and ask if she wants to move things to the couch. She pauses mid-scrape to cock an eyebrow at you over her shoulder and, okay. Seriously. Enough with the coy seduction stuff. You're going to need new underwear before the night is even over at this rate.

Trying not to blush even harder when she laughs teasingly at your pink cheeks, you huff and sulk all the way over to the couch. You didn't  _mean_  for it to sound dirty, honestly. Not that you'd have anything against that, obviously. You're pretty darn sure you'd actually really enjoy it, in fact. But still. You hate it a little that you're so easy to read, when she's still something of a mystery to you.

You hope you'll get the chance to learn her better.

You jump a little when she flings herself onto the couch next to you, and suddenly everything is really warm and really,  _really close._

She takes a sip of her wine before setting the glass next to yours on her end table. She has to reach across you to do it, and you can't help yourself from leaning in to sneak a quick kiss to her bare neck as it cranes in front of you.

She sucks in a quick breath and snaps back into her seat, the right side of her body still pressed all along the left side of yours.

You watch her stare at you out of the corner of your eye as you clear your throat nervously.

"Um, so...I think uh…" You struggle for words as you wrap and unwrap the hem of your shirt around the tip of your finger. You don't know why this is so hard to say. You've never been a very shy person. You're being ridiculous. You can do this. You clear your throat again and meet her gaze determinedly.

She's smiling softly at you, with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. You want to free that lip, and trap it between your own teeth. You- wait. No. Talking first, make out session after. You hope.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure how to say this," you begin, and relax a little when she only nods encouragingly and rests a hand on your knee. "I meant what I said before, um. About really liking you?" She nods again, and you get slightly distracted by the way her throat shifts around her swallowing. How is every part of this woman so very kissable? No. Focus, Pierce.

"I-" Your eyes meet hers again immediately when she starts to speak. "I feel, the same way about you, Britt. I know, we haven't been talking very long, and we got off to a pretty, um, pretty unusual start." You feel hot all over at the reminder, and have to look up at her through your lashes to keep from blushing so hard your face melts.

"Yeah...About that."

She giggles and nudges into your shoulder gently, and it makes you giggle too.

"Most people just shake hands, you know," she teases.

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes. "Hey, I didn't hear you complaining, missy!"

"Yeah, well," her voice drops a little, and her smile broadens when she feels the way it makes you shudder. "I was a little preoccupied at the time."

You snort a laugh without even meaning to, but you still want to clear the air, so you nudge her back.

"I feel like I should tell you, I'm not usually that...forward, I guess?"

"Forward as in fingerbanging me into oblivion in a dark movie theater?" She smirks that evil smirk again, and God does it work for you.

"Oh my God, Santana, really?"

She throws her head back to laugh and you forget your embarrassment in the face of that beautiful sound. It's the prettiest, most wonderful noise you've ever heard. It's your favorite noise, you've just decided.

"You're awful," you accuse, smacking her hand where it's migrated up your thigh in the distraction. Instead of pulling it back like you would have done though, she squeezes. Kind of hard. Hard enough to catch you by surprise.

Which is why you accidentally let out a kind of really loud moan at the pressure. You just weren't expecting it, that's all.

Santana's laughter cuts out instantly and she squeezes again, eyeing you intently. You chew on your lip to keep any other unexpected sounds from breaking loose, and eye her back. You don't know how you went from happy and a little embarrassed to totally and completely turned on in two seconds, but you're not exactly about to complain.

You both stare for another few seconds, and then Santana lunges. You quickly find yourself on your back with the world's hottest woman ever in the history of hot women crawling on top of you and looking at you like she has every intention of completely ravishing you.

Her hands are planted on either side of your neck and her knees and interlocked with you legs - one in between and one pressed against the back of the couch. She's so close to being all over you, and it feels like you're gonna die if she doesn't close those last few inches soon.

You hook your hands around her neck to pull her in, but she resists, locking her elbows. You whine and lean up to catch her lips, but she whispers for you to wait, so you drop back onto the cushion with a frustrated huff.

"What'sa matter?" you hush, but she just smiles and looks at you. It makes your heart race and your body feel like it's turning into goo, the way she's looking at you now. You want to find a way to keep that look on her face forever.

"Nothing," she finally answers. "Nothing, I just…" Her face grows serious and you feel a pout form on your lips.

"Santana?"

She takes a deep breath. "I just want to make sure that this is more than a one-time thing for you. I like you so much, Brittany. More than I've felt about anyone in a really long time. This isn't...I don't want this to just be about sex, you know?"

You can't help it. You have to kiss her. Right. Now.

You yank her down to your lips and moan when the rest of her body follows, moulding into you like a puzzle piece. Like it was meant to be there, so close to you.

"It is," you mumble against her. "It's so much more than sex."

She hums into your mouth oh God you're so worked up right now you can hardly stand it. She licks delicately into your mouth, testing for resistance. You make sure she doesn't find any.

The first time her thigh collides with the crotch of your jeans, it's like the fabric isn't even there, it feels so good.

"Oh God, Santana, I can't-"

"Say it again."

Her voice is dark and harsh and she pulls back to stare into your eyes with a fierceness that takes your breath away. It takes you a few tries to find your voice again.

"Santana."

She ruts against you again, and your eyes roll back. You lift your right leg until your thigh finds her center, and she whimpers when she makes contact.

"Again."

"Santana."

"Again."

"Santana. Santana. Oh God, please, Santana!"

She grinds against you every time you pant her name, and it tastes so good on your tongue -  _she_ tastes so good on your tongue. You've barely started but you're already so close to coming your whole body is shaking under her.

She's worked you both into a rhythm that has you gasping for breath as you claw at her shoulders, her back, and finally her ass. She groans when you jerk her roughly against your leg. Her her mouth finds your neck as you squeeze in time with her thrusts, sucking and biting like she's going to eat you alive. It's all so good you can't stand it.

"Bri- Brittany. Brittany, I-"

"SANTANA!"

Out of nowhere your orgasm hits you, pulling you apart and putting you back together again all at once. You can't see anything but Santana, don't want to. It's all her.

When you come back to yourself you feel her still grinding desperately against your leg, so you pull her in tight again, working your leg in time with her hips. She's close, you think, if the way her breathing has turned into short, gasping whines.

You squeeze and squeeze at her ass, feeling it flex under your palms. You knew she'd feel so good in your hands. You turn your head so that your mouth is pressed against her ear where your cheek used to be, and suck her earlobe between your lips, biting down gently. She shudders, but keeps thrusting.

Slamming your pelvis up, you whisper into her ear. "Come for me, Santana. Just let go, baby."

She moans, long and low and so, so  _sexy_ , and her rhythm falters under the force of her coming undone. She shudders over and over against your body, and you hold her there tight, hoping you'll never have to let go.

When she finally slumps on top of you, spent, you lift your hands to cradle her shoulders and stroker her hair. She hums into your neck and you giggle a little at the ticklish sensation.

"Well that was…"

"Forward?"

You snicker when you feel a puff of warm air wash over your collarbone, but it turns into a gasp when a warm, wet tongue chases the breath across your skin.

"Smartass."

You grin and reach down for another squeeze. "Hot ass, you mean."

She leans up on shaky arms to give you a sweet kiss. "You're kinda obsessed with that, huh?"

You blush, but nod. "It's a  _really_  hot ass."

She grins and kisses you again. When she pulls back, there's a little uncertainty in her still smiling expression. "I'm glad you like it. You'll probably be seeing a lot more of it in the future."

You hear the unspoken question in her joking comment, and your heart jumps at it. You like the idea of a future with a lot more of Santana, probably more than you can say.

"Awesome," you grin. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Just as Santana is settling in with a fresh glass of wine and her favorite season of Full House, a muted chime rings through the room. Frantically she scrambles for the phone tucked in hip pocket of her sweatpants, cursing as it catches against the fabric. Once freed, she swipes her thumb across the screen, soft smile creasing her cheeks at the face and name shining back at her in the dim light.

**Received: 12:43am**

**I'm home! LT says hi! -Britt3**

Chuckling, she types back a response, hesitating only for a moment before hitting send.

**Sent: 12:44am**

**Hi back. Glad you're home safe. Had a great time tonight.**

She bites her lip and winces visibly, when a new message pings almost instantly to interrupt her obvious turmoil.

**Received: 12:44am**

**Me too! Meant what I said. -Britt 3**

She stares at the message for a minute or two before tapping out a quick reply.

**Sent: 12:46am**

**And what was that?**

The phone remains silent for several minutes, and Santana shifts in her seat as she waits.

Finally, the familiar chime sounds again. She opens the message and her breath catches as she reads.

**Received: 12:53am**

**I really like you, Santana. -Britt3**

Before she can type response, another message comes in.

**Received: 12:54am**

**Like a lot. A lot a lot. -Britt3**

She stares at her screen for a moment, eyes wide and mouth falling a little slack. Slowly, almost as if possessed, she types out a response but doesn't send it. She stares at the words on her phone for so long, the autosave feature she cannot figure out how to disable saves a draft.

**Draft: 1:02am**

**I think I loved you from the first second I saw you.**

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she deletes the message and types a new one.

**Sent: 1:04am**

**Me too, Britt. A lot a lot.**

She sighs, and her body slumps into the couch. The next two messages she gets pull a bark of laughter from her, reanimating her defeated posture.

**Received: 1:05am**

**Score. -Britt3**

**Received: 1:05am**

**Night, Santana. Sweet dreams. I know mine will be. ;-) -Britt3**

Grinning widely, she rolls her eyes before slipping the phone back in her pocket and starting up the show again.

Her grin doesn't fade for the rest of the episode.

**Author's Note:**

> A bonus tiny window into Santana's world when Brittany isn't there...


End file.
